


I Will Follow

by SunlitGarden



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gilmore Girls Setting, Bad Boy Jughead Jones, Books, Everybody starts out single btw, F/M, Girl Next Door Betty Cooper, High School, Making Out, Mild Jughead and Archie antagonism, Neighbors, POV Betty Cooper, Rory/Jess vibes but with a happy ending obviously, Snark, Strangers to Lovers, and more - Freeform, only bughead here, or so he'd have you believe, petty crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22142848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: Betty attempts to help Jughead Jones ease into life in a small town after her neighbors the Andrews take him in. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s disciplined. He stuffs his face with food to avoid talking to everyone, steals her books instead of borrowing them like a normal person, and shows up in unexpected places. But where she leads, he seems to follow - and flirt. The flirting’s good… so good that she doesn’t mind a foray into risky behavior on her own terms.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 82
Kudos: 268
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	I Will Follow

**Author's Note:**

> Why, yes, this is my second Gilmore Girls AU Bughead fic. Can you tell I'm obsessed? The other one, "Where You Lead" was more the Luke and Lorelai setup whereas this one is more Rory and Jess. Bookish boy who has a motorcycle and snarks away with a girl who banters like a pro and picks locks in sweaters and skirts? Um, yes!
> 
> Anyway, if that sounds like fun to you, you'll enjoy this fic. Hope you enjoy all the canon and GG references. My sweetheart beta @bugggghead caught Jug's wandering hands and didn't laugh at my attempted graphic. That's more than I can ask ;)

“Betty, they’re here!” Alice hissed through her teeth, hurrying to open the door as Betty’s fingers flew across the keys to finish her paper.

 _Just a few more sentences_.

Her mother’s bright welcome as _hostess extraordinaire_ was just background noise, easily filtered out by her own focus. The unlocked door smacked open without ceremony.

“And _this_ is Betty’s room.”

Jumping to attention, Betty automatically tightened her ponytail and twirled to face their guests with a smile.

The tall boy in a beanie standing next to Mary looked momentarily stricken before rearranging his face into almost-scowling neutrality.

“Hi! You must be Jughead. I’m Betty.”

“I figured.”

“Do you need some help with those trays?”

Mary laughed and slumped, probably exhausted after making up the house and contracts for a long-term stay for what Fred deemed was basically his nephew via friendship. “No, sweetie. You keep Jughead company for a second. Alice, would you mind helping me pop these things back in the oven to keep warm for when the boys arrive? With how late the games have been going, I’m not sure when they’ll get here.”

“Of course.” Alice shot a warning glance at Betty and mouthed, “ _Door. Open._ ”

_Obviously._

Jughead wandered into her room, idly fidgeting with her picture frames and books while one hand stayed clumped in his jean pocket. Giant headphones with wooden panels were slung around his neck like he planned on tuning everyone out for the evening. Perhaps he was a musician, like Archie. The suspenders hanging by his side were interesting. _He_ seemed interesting.

_And pretty._

He examined her bookshelf, the cheap wood sagging with the weight of her interests. “Wow. Aren’t we hooked on phonics?”

Excitement bubbled up in her chest as he scanned the rest of her collection. No one _ever_ looked at her books and she was eager to have a fellow literati in her midst. “Do you read?”

He flipped to the back of _Beloved_ , scanning the summary. “Not much.”

 _Oh_.

Since he kept reading it, thumbing the well-loved spine, she felt confident enough to lean up on her toes. “I could loan you that, if you like. It’s actually my favorite.”

The words transformed his mild interest into rushed indifference as he put it face-down on her desk. “No, thanks. I don’t know how long I’m staying.”

His carefully neutral expression unnerved her a little bit.

“Right. Okay, then. Well, if you change your mind–”

“Which one’s your boyfriend?”

Confused, she glanced over at the giant heart picture frame on the wall with multiple cutouts. He obviously didn’t mean Caramel, so she assumed he was judging the way she was wrapped in hugs with Archie and Kevin as if it implied _something_ about her alignment.

“Oh, neither.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “No boyfriend?”

“Nope.” Annoyance fizzled around her heart at the way he seemed to imply that it was weird.

_He’s just new. Curious. Getting the lay of the land._

“That’s Kevin, the Sheriff’s son and director of student theater productions.” From Jughead’s unimpressed expression, she doubted they’d be close. “And Archie, who’s the quarterback on the football team and Mary and Fred’s son. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”

“Considering I’m crashing on his floor, I’d kind of assumed it would happen eventually. So, you and Archie are close, I’m guessing?”

“Well, yeah. We’ve been best friends since we were kids.” She smiled fondly at the picture of them goofing around with the Andrews’ dog Vegas.

“ _Ah_.”

The sound drew her attention back to Jughead’s strangely judgmental expression. “ _Ah_ , what?”

“If I went into your closet, would I find a cheerleading uniform?”

“Why, do you want to try it on?”

Finally, a smile cracked through his apathetic facade. Pride welled up inside of her as he looked at his feet and chuckled, amusement highlighting how cute he was. It wouldn’t surprise her if he’d broken a few hearts in his hometown.

Still fighting a smile, he gestured to the window with his chin. “Does this thing open?”

“Of course. You just have to unlock the tabs and push a little.” Their house was well-worn in a lot of ways but usually the heat was okay. Since she was wearing a sweater already, it was kind of hard to tell. Maybe he wanted to air out some of the smells of cooked vegetables since her mother had gone above and beyond with broccoli and lemon tarts. It was a bizarre welcome, but she was happy to be a part of it. Plus, hosting at the Cooper house meant that they’d get to enjoy some tastier leftovers than usual, assuming Jughead didn’t eat for four people.

As he popped open the screen, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

“Bail,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What? _No.”_

“Why not?”

“Because–” Almost _affronted_ , she crossed her arms, then uncrossed them, because she was trying to be _polite_ and _welcoming_ to Jughead. “We have guests. You _are_ the guest.”

“If you came with me, wouldn’t you be _accompanying_ a guest?” he reasoned, his boot accidentally edging against her bare socks. Her mother was going to have a fit if he tracked mud into the house. Somehow, she doubted her lack of appropriate adventuring footwear was going to deter him.

“ _And_ it’s Riverdale on a Tuesday night.” Her breath came out in a nervous laugh, not sure how else to convince him. “There’s nowhere to bail to. The 24-hour diner stopped serving fresh food an hour ago.”

“We could just...walk around,” he offered, leaning against the wall. “Stare at each other–compare jewelry.” He wiggled his fingers to show off his steel rings.

Not sure whether to laugh, scold him, or be flattered that he’d chosen _her_ as worthy of spending time with, Betty wobbled on the edge of everything, entreating him with her best attempt at big eyes and a smile that never failed to get her out of trouble. “Come on, Mary and my mom have cooked enough to feed a small country, and even though it’ll probably be awkward, it’s the first step in making everything easier. It won’t be that bad. Trust me.”

Clearly dubious, he shook his head. “I don’t even know you.”

“Don’t I look trustworthy?” She straightened her spine and preened.

Eyebrows quirking, he gave her a once-over. “Maybe.”

“Just keep your mouth full–that way you can’t respond to any of their questions.” Smiling brightly, Betty tugged on his sleeve and led him to the dinner table to sit next to her.

“So. Jug–Head,” Alice began before they were even fully settled, her cheeks tight and eyes gleaming with a vicious element of investigation. “Tell us all about yourself. What are your after-school curriculars like?”

With a weary glance at Betty, Jughead grabbed a tart and shoved it in his mouth, chewing and staring at them all blankly until Betty felt like melting in her seat.

Alice folded her hands together and glared at Mary. “Well. Isn’t _he_ charming?”

Her bookcase didn’t look right. She narrowed her gaze and clutched the key to her diary hanging around her neck, wondering what her mother had done.

Before she could place the change, a text notification drew her attention.

 **_Archie:_ ** _Can I get your opinion on this song?_

Through the window, he offered her a sheepish smile, guitar already slung around his shoulders. Forcing a bright nod, she texted her mother where she’d be and headed to the Andrews house.

Long past knocking, she opened the door and rubbed Vegas’s curious, eager face. “Hey, sweetie.”

“Hey,” a tight voice responded. Nudging the door the rest of the way open, she locked eyes with Jughead. Something like curiosity flashed in his expression before his mouth ticked up in a smirk. “What brings you over, hun?”

The term of endearment probably should’ve annoyed her, but the fact that he used it all made her ears feel warm. She tugged on an earlobe to try and hide the blush. “Archie wanted me to listen to a song.”

“Ah, yes. _I try_.”

“You try what?”

“No.” He chuckled, setting his laptop on the coffee table. “That’s the name of the song. Vegas and I have gotten pretty good at howling along. After you’re done, I’d be happy to give you our rendition.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” she managed, daintily climbing the steps so as not to keep her friend waiting. “Good luck with your homework.” She could hear his snort from the stairs, indicating he was likely not focusing on schoolwork. Tightening her ponytail, she greeted Archie and tried to distract herself from digging in to find out what had the boy downstairs so immersed.

“You talk to Jug?”

“Yeah–just when I came in.”

Archie twisted the spokes on the side of his guitar and flicked the strings, his brow knitting in concentration. “If he’s ever...”

“He was fine,” she promised, settling cross-legged on Jughead’s spare mattress. It wasn’t very comfortable and she had to wonder if it hurt his back. As Archie continued tuning and warming up for his song with false starts, her eyes swept the room to categorize the changes since Jughead moved in.

A giant camping backpack leaned against one corner and there were a few band and classic film posters added to the rock star/athlete mix Archie’d put up over the years. Some pens and well-worn paperbacks were splayed out near the mattress–mysteries, pulp, and nonfiction, by the looks of the covers. Her fingers itched to pull them into her lap and examine them.

In a photograph taped (not _pinned_ ) to the corkboard, child Jughead hugged a grinning, younger girl outside of a movie theater.

“Who’s that?”

Barely glancing up, Archie readjusted his claw. “His sister.”

“They didn’t send her with him?”

“Nah.”

“Isn’t that…” _Strange? Sad? Horrible? Unfair?_ “...hard for them to be separated?”

“I guess.” As an only child, Archie’d never really understood why she missed her sister Polly when he was right next door to play with. “I think I finally got this chord progression. You ready?”

After the feedback session, Betty went downstairs feeling a little worse for the wear. She loved Archie. She loved that he was following his passion. But there were only so many ways she could say _that sounded great_ and _keep pushing_ before she got tired of cheerleading and wanted to dig into the heart of the matter. He was trying to write a love song and had never really been in love. Despite all his puppy-dog eyes whenever he felt like someone _got_ his music, it usually dissolved within two weeks. Still, she didn’t want to discourage him from _trying_ to find that spark.

Jughead looked up, his fingers pressed contemplatively against his mouth. “You feeling okay, Cooper?”

“Yeah. I think I’m just tired.” The chair seemed about two feet closer to the stairs than when she went up. Maybe she was reading into room rearrangements too much.

“I have something that might cheer you up.” Surprised, she watched him dip into his bookbag and stand, a giant napkin obscuring whatever was in his hands. “Guess what it is.”

Biting her lip, Betty grazed her fingers along his forearm to reach for the gift. “Is it a book?” Clucking his tongue at her impatience, he revealed her present with a flourish. It wasn’t much of a magic trick, although her eyes did go wide with excitement. “Oh, Jug, you read it! Did you like it? I would’ve leant it to you if you’d–”

“You did.”

She blinked, confused, running her hands over the cover. “You stole my book?”

He swayed on the balls of his feet. “Technically, I borrowed it.”

“But why?” She opened to the title page to confirm it was hers with Toni Morrison’s dedication. A few pages in, she noticed observations scrawled in the margins. “You… you wrote in it.” She looked up at him, waiting for an explanation.

Face draining of color, he backed up. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was a signed copy. I can erase them–”

“No, it’s fine. I just don’t understand _why_ you went through all this trouble.” Her fingers grazed each indented page. Flipping through various sections, she studied his additions in the margins, surprised by both the frequency and depth of his annotations. After a few moments of silence as she studied his observations, he cleared his throat, and she realized he probably didn’t want her to scan through his thoughts right in front of him. “I thought you said you didn’t read much.”

He shrugged, awkwardly stuffing his hands in his jeans as his lips tilted in a brief smile. “What is much?”

“I…” At a total loss for words, she shook her head and brought the book close to her heart. “I guess I’ll have to reread it. Thanks, Dodger.”

“Dodger?”

“You’ll figure it out,” she promised, ponytail bouncing as she left.

The moment her hand was on her own house’s door handle, Jughead burst out onto the porch with a triumphant, “Oliver Twist!”

She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile that big.

Jogging usually shoved her far enough beyond her own head not to notice anything else, but raised voices made her curious enough to pull her earbuds out and investigate. The first thing she noticed was Jughead’s shirt stretched taught across whatever new muscles he’d been gathering while picking up extra shifts at the construction yard. Archie was with him, gesturing on the bridge over Sweetwater River. Trotting closer, she could just barely make out what they were saying.

“What do you want from me? You all bring me to this place, you put me in a school that allowed the water polo team to be called the _Aquaholics,_ you try to fight _my_ battles and–” He jabbed his hand out to affirm each point, “You take me away from my home, my friends, and now you want _what_ from me?”

“I’m _trying_ to help you!”

“Well stop trying! Stop talking to me, stop following me, and stop asking me questions–just _stop!_ ”

“That’s what you want?” Archie’s jaw clenched. The scary vein in his forehead was throbbing with contained emotion and Betty moved closer to be there in case he needed to be talked down.

“Yes!” Jughead spat.

“That’s _really_ what you want?”

Finally easing up a bit, Jughead jerked his head in a nod. “ _Yes_.”

“Fine. You got it.”

“Thank you,” Jughead fired back, strained but strangely respectful.

“You’re welcome!”

Scowling, seemingly unsure what to do with all the tension in the air, they turned and stalked in tandem across the low-slung bridge. Archie’s hand shot out so fast that Betty barely had a chance to shout before Jughead was tumbling into the shallow water, clothes and all.

“Archie,” she gasped, wide-eyed. “What the hell was that?”

The redhead flinched as if coming out of a trance, but didn’t slow or turn back as Jughead sputtered to the surface, indignant as he squeezed out his beanie. It was possibly the most ridiculous thing Betty had ever seen and it took everything in her not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, Betts, but I can’t _stand_ that guy. He won’t listen to anybody. I tried to stick up for him but he’s impossible to connect with. Dad’s already in trouble with Principal Weatherbee for Jug not being _disciplined_. It’s no wonder the guy doesn’t have any friends.”

“Archie,” she chided lightly, glancing over his shoulder at the wounded, sour expression on Jughead’s face as he hauled himself out of Sweetwater River. “He’s going through a lot. We need to be patient.”

“Yeah. _Yeah_.” He took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, like she taught him in second grade. “You won’t tell my parents about this, right?”

“No, but I might tell Kevin,” she teased, bumping his shoulder. “I should get pics. He loves muscular men throwing down and getting wet. I could make it an article and call it: Bulldogs Gone Wild.”

“Stop.” He chuckled, the All-American boy next door once again as he rubbed his neck. “Besides, Jug’s not really a Bulldog yet.”

“I’ll look out for Jug. You take a walk and calm down or something, okay? Write a song about it. Maybe then you’ll feel up to talking to him again.”

His eyes lit up in excitement. “That’s a great idea! Thanks, Betts!”

“My pleasure.” She shook her head fondly as the quarterback jogged off the path. The sounds of water slapping the dock drew her attention to the lean planes of Jughead Jones’ now-bare chest. Mouth running dry, Betty _gaped_ at him.

“What? Are you here to _help_ as well?” he scowled, pushing his dark, wet hair back.

A knot tightened in her gut.

Jughead Jones was _hot_.

It wasn’t the scowl that had her salivating. It couldn’t have been the muscles, either. She’d seen plenty through her window over the years. It might’ve been his _confidence_. She couldn’t quite place the attraction beyond that he was a dreamy, lean cynic with passion that cracked like lightning in a bottle. Plus, he liked to _read_. At least, he seemed to be engrossed in some book or another every time she saw him.

Before she turned into a hormonal mess, Betty shook her head. “I’d offer you my clothes, but I’m not sure they’d fit.” His eyebrows raised in surprise, and before he could say something sarcastic, she wrangled out of her sweatshirt and tossed it at him.

For once, he seemed to be at a loss for words. She was wearing a longer sports bra, so it wasn’t like her boobs were totally out there. She reasoned it covered more than her bathing suit.

“You can dry off with that–if you don’t mind the help.”

“If only all my help came with a view like this,” he muttered, patting his face and eyeing her with a guarded expression. “Literally giving me the shirt off your back? Is this an attempt to try and make up for my recent brush with the _pep_ squad?”

“No. I _do_ think you should give the Andrews a break. They’re really sticking their necks out for you.”

“I didn’t ask–”

“You didn’t have to.” She edged the grass with her heel. “When my parents bailed on the school festival, the Andrews insisted I join them for everything down to the potato sack races. We fell on our faces and they treated Archie and me to milkshakes after. They’re… _present_.”

“I think the term you’re searching for is _meddling_ ,” he offered, digging a pinky into his ear.

Lately, she’d been really into Psychology and couldn’t help but think Jughead was probably lashing out at the Andrews because he was mad at his own family who weren’t around to deal with the consequences. “It isn’t fair that your family dropped you here, and I know Riverdale can feel a little _small_ sometimes, but,” she mused, aware of his voracious appetite, “the milkshakes are easily the best in state.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You asking me out on a date, Cooper?”

She wondered if she should, not used to dealing with that kind of situation. Besides, if it was an awkward date, she’d probably never be able to show her face around the Andrews house again.

If she fell for him, _really_ fell, only for him to leave, her mother would never let her hear the end of it. Even if she wanted to–and she _did_ want to spend time with him–he needed to get settled into his new life before jumping into a relationship.

She reigned in her spiraling thoughts enough to smile sincerely. “Just suggesting that there might be a silver lining to this situation.”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes and handed her back the sweatshirt. “Thanks.”

“You know, if you’re looking for a place to hang, you _could_ join the Blue and Gold. That’s always been my source of stress relief–press night, notwithstanding.” She looked up at him from under her lashes, trying to remain nonchalant.

“The paper?” His gaze darted off to Sweetwater River like he’d rather jump back in than have that conversation. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

He took a deep breath as if they were launching into a long-winded philosophical debate. “First of all, print journalism is a dying industry–”

She shook her head. “Don’t tell that to my mom. It’s dormant, not dead.”

“And secondly, why the _hell_ would I want to write about anything going on in this town? What would you even have me cover? Football games and maple syrup recipes?”

She cringed at the cavalier way he trampled her passion based on last month’s issue. “It was a slow period. The new kid in town wouldn’t grant me an interview.”

“Yeah, well, he isn’t going to.” He leaned away from her attempts to poke him in the ribs.

“You have to do _something_. Make friends. Get a hobby.”

“I have a hobby. Writing.”

“Write with me!” He shot her a dubious look. “Okay, clearly, you need some new ways to burn off energy.” The twinkle in his eye and the curve of his smirk made her insides wiggle. “Fred’s construction shifts are a great way to build muscles but you need something that’s intellectually or spiritually stimulating, too.”

“Making things is supposed to build character,” he mocked. He flexed his whole arm as opposed to his bicep, like he was still getting used to the definition. Swallowing, she pried her gaze away and fingered the edge of her sports bra, wondering how much time they had before her mother got worried. With a quick spin, she struggled back into her sweatshirt. He tilted his head like he was studying her as he stretched out his suspenders. “Guess I’ll have to keep looking for a good, wholesome distraction or a silver lining.”

“Guess you will.” The metal clasps of his suspenders smacked against his thigh, sending a thrill down her spine. “Jug-Head.”

The teasing throwback to her mom had him rolling his eyes. “Alright, Miss Cooper, I’m guessing you have to get back to Mama Bear?” She nodded primly, ponytail bouncing as she played the part of his Goldilocks. “I can give you a ride.”

“Really? With what?”

“My bike.”

Her eyes widened and she tucked her hands behind her back. “Oh, no. I can’t get on your motorcycle.” Even if she’d watched him out her window and salivated at the sound of the motor purring, her mother would put her in lockdown for a month.

“Can’t?” he teased.

“Shouldn’t. Besides, don’t you only have one helmet?”

“I’ll let you wear it. Plus, it’s an easy way to dry off, get the wind in my hair,” he said, pretending to do a glamorous flip with it that made her laugh.

Betty glanced down the path and bit down on her lip. The timing would work out. No one in her parents’ circle of tattle-tales would be lurking in the town square. “Okay,” she relented. “Go slow.”

“Slow? That’s _more_ dangerous. I recommend you hold on for dear life.”

The helmet had a crown etched on it in what she guessed was a tribute to his beanie. As everything clicked into place, she hesitated, eyeing his still-soaked t-shirt.

Sensing her concern, Jughead tied it around the handle bars instead of putting it back on so she wouldn’t get soaked from contact.

While she was no stranger to hugging her friends, wrapping her arms around Jughead felt significantly different. For one thing, he was shirtless. For another, she was wildly attracted to him and they weren’t really _friends_ yet by his admission.

His whole body felt burning hot. Betty shivered and readjusted.

“Hang on tight.”

They zoomed forward, vibrations only emphasizing the adrenaline rush. She crushed herself against him, able to feel the way his ribs moved when he laughed.

After a few minutes, they stopped.

“Are you lost?” she asked, her cheek sticking to his shoulder.

“If we turn right, we get back to the house,” he explained over the purr of the motor. “But if we go left… we’d just be driving around.”

She knew exactly what would happen if he turned right. Nestling closer, she smiled into his shoulder. “Go left.”

School wasn’t going to be any easier for Jughead if he kept stuffing his mouth and getting kicked out of class for wearing a hat indoors. After he’d gotten into a fight with Reggie, all the baseballs in school had mysteriously gone missing. Fred and Mary were still unearthing them from the garden and various mailboxes around town. Some of them even had faces and names drawn on them in marker, like the one she found in the Cooper mailbox along with a rose plucked off of their own shrubbery, _Juliet_.

She’d kept the rose to dry in the pages of the book he stole, then returned to the intimate thoughts written within.

Despite the way he engaged with _her_ , he seemed determined to force himself into the role of an outsider, a weirdo from the wrong side of the tracks. He was funny, smart, and unfairly attractive. There was no reason for him to be ostracized unless he _wanted_ that. He was always writing or reading on his laptop when he was trying to dissociate and keep busy during the mandatory classes or assemblies.

Once, though, she’d caught him hiding behind the bleachers at a football game–just _watching_. Her. Archie. Before she’d determined who he was really focused on, Cheryl barked at her to get back into formation. By the time she was able to check again, he was gone.

She had so many _questions_ for him. Why the beanie? Why was he always hungry? What the hell was he reading or writing?

He was her biggest mystery.

The moment she saw him sucking his fingers free of grease, clearly skipping class in favor of snacks, she knew she had to do something. She marched over and sat next to him, determined to get to the bottom of things. “Hello, Ponyboy.”

He glanced up and smiled, purposefully crunching on a chip.

“I’m starting to regret the advice I gave to you about eating to avoid anything intense.” Maintaining eye contact, Jughead funneled the chip bag to shake crumbs down his gullet. She sighed. “So you don’t want to talk to anybody?”

“Depends what we’re talking about. If it’s about my hat, eating habits–or even my _gang past_ –”

“I want to talk about your reading.”

For a moment, the sarcastic bad boy facade fell away to blank surprise. “My what?”

“Every time I see you, you’re reading, eating, or… writing.”

“And?” He licked his lips, drawing her attention to the way they bowed.

“What kinds of stories are you into? I’ve seen you tear through three books in the past week.”

Sighing, he settled back on the chair and examined the inside of the bag like he was considering licking it, too. “Is this another segue to try and convince me to join some kind of club?”

“Maybe. Want me to treat you to the vending machine?” When he looked up, all round blue eyes and long, dark lashes, her gut did a little somersault. “Even if _I’m_ not supposed to be eating grease, I’m not above bribery.”

“You’re not supposed to eat grease?”

“It’s–um, it’s bad for acne,” she admitted, pushing her hair back and trying not to scratch the little red bumps at her hairline.

With an exhale that was almost a snort, Jughead crumpled the chip bag and tossed it into the trash as he stood. “Come on. My treat.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t–”

With a smirk, he tugged up his jeans and jerked his chin for her to follow. “I didn’t say I was _paying_.”

Hanging out with Jughead gave her a sharp, tangible thrill. It wasn’t the _weirdo loner_ or _hottie bad boy_ vibes that enticed her. It was something in the way his posture softened when he thought no one else was looking, the notes he wrote in the margins of his books that she’d snuck peeks at when half-forcing him to lunch with their crew. There was a certain _alertness_ to the way he caught glimpses of things, to the way he always had a book or his laptop open. He was always writing or reading or _thinking_ –just not always about what was on the curriculum. Weatherbee kept railing on him for being a slacker without nurturing the potential that laid underneath.

“It’s locked,” Jughead lamented, jiggling the handle to the supply closet. “I swear, it’s a treasure trove in there.”

“So you couldn’t _find_ the gym, but somehow you located the supply closet without a problem?” she teased, referencing his tendency to skip Physical Education as she pulled a bobby pin from her ponytail.

“What can I say? I have my priorities.”

Shaking her head, Betty got down on her knees and gently pushed his hips.

He flushed, stumbling back. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Breaking and entering.”

As she slipped the bobby pin into the lock, his jaw went slack. Pleasure hummed through her at the prospect that he wouldn’t see her as such a _good girl_ after this. With a few measured clicks, the door swung open. She stood up triumphantly. Jughead visibly swallowed, his eyes lit up with wonder.

“You’re an enigma, Cooper. Either that or Nancy Drew.”

“Mm, I don’t think Nancy ever had a case involving a vending machine. I would know, having read most of the series.” She breezed by him with more confidence than she felt, scanning the treasure trove for her favorite cookie packs.

“Oh really?” He reached beyond her, effectively crowding her against the shelf. His warm breath hit her neck, unfortunately protected by the high collar of her sweater. In a rush of brevity, she pushed back against him with her ass, coming into contact with what she was pretty sure was a stiffy. “Uh–Betty–” He scooted back quickly, one hand on her arm as if to steady them both as she turned.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed.” Her face was warm and her whole body felt like it was lighting up with the subtlety of a by-the-hour motel sign. Even her voice sounded husky. “Weren’t you hungry?”

For a moment, his posture stayed curved, head tilted downward and weight shifted onto one leg. The dim light from the hallway felt like nothing now that they were in the darkened closet.

“Sorry, we can leave.” She retreated into herself only for Jughead to surge forward and clasp her cheeks with both hands, pulling her into a face-smashing kiss. A swell of desire and affection filled her veins. She grasped his wrists, kissing back. Even though it was a faux-pas, she opened her eyes during the follow-up kisses that felt harder and more insistent, like he was trying to crawl inside of her. With his eyes closed, he seemed so vulnerable and desperate. Renewing her vigor, she kissed him hard enough to twist them to the side, just enough to close the closet door and give them some privacy. Almost immediately, his hand went to her waist.

They kissed until her lips were numb with bliss and his hands had migrated from her waist to the back pockets of her jeans to give her butt an exploratory squeeze.

“I swear, I’m not easy,” she protested, nipping his lower lip.

“I figured.” He chuckled, gazing down at her so tenderly that she sort of felt like melting.

“So… do you want to write with me?”

After a moment of confusion, he burst out laughing. “Is _this_ what you were bribing me for? The Blue and Gold?” She bit her lip. Of course that wasn’t the case, but she’d _already_ ruined the mood and wasn’t about to launch into a lengthy defense mechanism. “Well, I guess you were bound to convince me eventually.” Elated, she bounced up on her toes and puckered her lips. “But,” he chided, gently easing back. “You can’t edit me to death.”

“No, no, of course not. It’ll still be your voice. Your story.”

“I doubt that,” he teased, swollen lips brushing hers. “Keep trying to convince me.”

As his mouth closed over hers, all her thoughts seemed clearer and _better_ and lost all at the same time. They kept kissing until the bell rang, at which point they practically fell back into class. Betty couldn’t stop blushing and Kevin kept trying to pry the reasoning out of her. Thankfully, Archie didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, not even when Jughead kept his hand up to his mouth and didn’t eat anything else the rest of the day–like he was preserving the taste of… well… _Betty_.

She had a feeling school was about to become a lot more interesting for both of them.

Humming while they kissed was a natural, pleased instinct when it was early in the morning and they both had fresh breath. The vibrations echoed back at her and had them both smiling into it, still cross-legged on the bed.

“Elizabeth!”

The door smacked open, jolting them apart.

Alice smiled as though vindicated in her abrupt greeting by their only slightly compromising position. “I have to leave for a story, which means you need to head to school early.”

It went without saying, she wasn’t leaving her daughter and her newly-minted rebel boyfriend in the house unsupervised. “Okay.” Licking her lips, Betty shot a very disgruntled Jughead her best reassuring glance.

Of course, that didn’t mean he could keep his mouth shut. “What kind of story pops up around Riverdale before 8am?”

“Arrogant youth vandalizes valedictorian’s prized possession and devours the entire contents of her family’s kitchen.” Betty was almost impressed with her mother’s quick response. Jughead rolled off the bed and sighed, lifting Betty’s backpack onto his own shoulder. “Have a fun day, you two. Learn something,” she emphasized with plenty of side-eye.

“Sorry,” Betty managed when they were out of sight of her mother’s car and halfway to school. “She’s overprotective.”

“Are _you_ upset about _Beloved_?” His hand felt sweaty–or maybe that was hers.

“No. I’m–” She laughed nervously. “Honestly, I’m more worried about those rumors that you vandalized the drive-in with your crown.”

“Don’t worry about stupid, small-town rumors.” Every nerve ending seemed to light up in attention as he leaned in and brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. They hurried to the Blue and Gold office, Jughead guiding her by the back of the neck into kisses that made her stomach flutter. She was lost in the press of his tongue, the tickle of his eyelashes, the firm caress of his hands from her jaw down to the curve of her ass.

The warning bell vaguely broke the spell. “Jug,” she murmured, dizzy with endorphins. “We have to go to class.”

“My attendance record says otherwise.” Sighing, she pressed her forearms against his collar to push him back as she fixed him with a firm stare. “Betty,” he protested, already aware of the losing battle. “I’m doing some of my best work here and if you go, you’ll be missing it.”

“As much as I’d love to stay and _embrace_ your work ethic, we need to go to class. You, especially. If you don’t have a 2.5 or above, you won’t be able to go to the dance–”

“Oh no,” he deadpanned, rubbing her hips.

“And _I_ really want to go. With _you_ ,” she emphasized, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Please, Jug? You’re smarter than anyone here–”

He nuzzled her nose. “Present company excluded.”

“–and I want to slow dance with my boyfriend at the dance I spent all quarter planning.”

Apparently her pleading pout drew him in, his gaze lingering on her lips before admitting, “Only for you, Betty Cooper.”

She squealed, planting a huge kiss on his smiling lips. “Also, we need to stop by Reggie’s party to hear Archie’s set.”

He lifted his hands off her in a panic. “Hey, wait a minute–”

“I’ll pay you in kisses and manuscript edits.” She raised her eyebrows and bit her lip, hoping she could tempt him into being friendlier with Archie. By the way he stood tall instead of leaning into her touch, she could tell she was pushing it. “Please? We can make fun of everyone and raid Reggie’s fridge.”

“I make fun of that crowd, anyway, and whatever’s in his fridge isn’t worth a night of ‘ _What’s that guy doing here_?’”

“Okay. I’ll go with Kevin,” she said quietly, wrapping her arms around his waist. Truthfully, _she_ felt out of place at social gatherings where people like Cheryl Blossom made snide remarks about her weight, and others drunkenly stumbled through yards vomiting up their feelings.

A quick kiss to the top of her head made her feel better.

“I’ll try to snag you a bag of chips,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Betty Cooper, you minx.” He pulled back enough to make sure she saw his smirk. “Have I told you how disturbingly wonderful you are today?”

Giggling, she leaned up on her toes and met him for another perfunctory kiss.

A dress was too fancy but jeans seemed too casual, so Betty settled on a skirt and shirt she felt comfortable unbuttoning to reveal a slightly more rock and roll camisole underneath. It wasn’t _racy_ but it wasn’t her usual sweater set, either.

Lugging around Archie’s stage equipment and giving him pep talks made her feel like a roadie. The musical talents at the party were actually pretty impressive, especially the semi-famous local girl band The Pussycats.

Kevin caught the eye of someone across the room and nudged her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, right?”

“I guess—” the second syllable was only halfway out when he bolted into the crowd in the hopes for a new kind of buddy that night—“so.”

With a big sigh, Betty waited for Archie to be free so she didn’t have to avoid the throng of drunken adolescents. A keg was in the kitchen, so she had to sidestep a few sticky splotches on the floor from where idiots had spilled their drinks before finding the pantry. There wasn’t anything particularly impressive to raid from it. Jughead would _not_ have been happy with a handful of protein bars, but she couldn’t find a bag of chips small enough to sneak away.

“Come here often?”

Betty jumped, clutching a hand to her chest. If she hadn’t recognized Jughead’s voice, she probably would’ve lashed out at whoever snuck in behind her. When her racing heart calmed down, she wrapped her arms around him in relief. “What are you doing here? I thought you hated parties.”

His mouth slanted down on one side and his brow furrowed as he glanced away. “I do. I came here because I wanted to be with you.”

“Jug,” she crooned, running her hands down his arms to twine their fingers. “I want to be with you, too.”

“Does that mean you’ll steal the jumbo box of breakfast bars and bail with me?” he pleaded, pulling their linked hands up high and pressing her against the shelf.

“Archie has one more set. Think you can hold out until then?”

With a weary sigh, he pushed into her for a deep, probing kiss. Being with him felt like melting into liquid gold. She edged away as soon as she could take a breath. “Anybody could walk in.”

“I don’t care about anyone else. I don’t _like_ anyone else,” he bit out, slamming the pantry door to prove his point.

“Hey. What’s wrong?” she asked, caressing his cheeks in concern at his seemingly random outburst. In the small space, his tension was tangible.

His jaw throbbed. “Nothing. It’s just… family stuff.”

“Do you want to go somewhere and talk about it?”

He glanced around the pantry dubiously. “Somewhere _else_?”

“Eventually, they’re going to want to refill the chip bowls,” she reasoned, taking his hand and leading him through the kitchen and up the staircase. Outside, people were surely smoking or throwing up. Neither of them said anything as they tried the study, which was occupied, and then a bedroom, which she had to pick open but was at least _empty_.

“So… what’s going on?” she tried, smoothing back his thick, soft waves.

“I don’t really want to talk about it. Is that okay?”

His blatant sullenness was fairly out of character. As much as she wanted to fix it, she wanted him to trust her enough to be open about his feelings, too, so she swallowed down her urge to pry and pushed a lock of hair out of his face. “Of course it is. I’m really glad you came here tonight.”

“Me too.” His hands roamed from her waist to her ass, pulling her forward to straddle his lap. There wasn’t any question if she _wanted_ him.They moved quietly, slowly, like they had all the time in the world and not fifteen minutes before Archie’s next set. Though, truthfully, she didn’t think they’d make it downstairs in time for any of it. Their languorous kisses turned molten, his hand spreading embers under her sweater as he reached for the band of her bra. “This okay?”

“Yeah.” Despite the somewhat sad expression on his face, Jughead was hard underneath her, and she wondered if touching her made him feel better the same way his hand on her shoulder or neck unknot the tension she carried daily. “What do you want?”

“This,” he whispered, capturing her lips. They spun onto the bed, her sweater rolling up and off as he peppered kisses down her chest. Her bra was black, nothing special, but Jughead’s eyes blew wide in reverence. He made her feel beautiful.

She tucked his hair behind his ear and sat up to unhook the bra herself. The loose material snapped forward and she took a steadying breath as she slid it to the foot of the bed. Adrenaline and possible panic surged in her veins.

It was the most exposed she’d ever been but she _trusted_ him.

Frozen, Jughead glanced down at her breasts, his face swallowed by darkness before he met her eyes and the dark blue rims reappeared. “You’re magnificent.”

She giggled.

 _Magnificent_.

Of course he’d use a four-syllable word to describe her breasts.

He shed his shirt and wrapped himself around her, both of them groping and kissing everything they could reach. Eventually, he burrowed between her breasts, kneading them and sucking pink marks into her skin with abandon that had her rutting for friction between her legs.

“Jughead, touch me,” she begged, only for his hips to thrust into her with a moan so guttural that she worried he’d sprained something. “Juggie? You okay?”

“Fuck. _Fuck_ ,” he mumbled, exhausted and still somehow rolling her nipples in a way that made her thighs clench. “I just came.”

“Really?” She felt breathless, tingling. She _did that_ to him.

“Mmhm. Now, as for your request...” With a mischievous, lazy wink, Jughead took her breast between his lips.

“Oh, _Jug_.”

The room was spinning. Her body thumped with pleasure. Jughead made quick work of her skirt and underwear, slipping his fingers inside her soaking wet sex. The noises she made should’ve embarrassed her. Whines, grunts, moans, desperate attempts to get Jughead to touch and kiss her where and when she needed it until the coil in her body finally snapped and she was overwhelmed with bliss.

When the world came back into focus, she caught Jughead watching her intensely.

Her cheeks flooded with heat when she remembered the filthy things she’d said to him whilst keening.

Maybe she was supposed to be more innocent.

Maybe she smelled or tasted weird and he didn’t know how to say it.

Covering her chest, she resisted the urge to roll over and bury her insecurity in a stranger’s blanket. “What is it?”

He hesitated. “My parents want me to move back to Toledo.”

A heavy stone dropped on her chest. All the sleepy, sated pleasure evaporated. But surely he hadn’t come to the party and seduced her just to abandon her. “What?” She scrambled to sit up, torn between reaching for him or her clothes, her nails digging into her palms instead. “Are you–”Tears pricked her eyes. She couldn’t even vocalize it amidst the despairing, hollow void opening up inside her chest.

“Slow down,” he commanded, rubbing her arms.

“I mean, I’m so happy for you. You’ll get to be with your family. I just–” With a sharp breath, she realized her skin had erupted into goosebumps despite Jughead’s pained attempt to warm her up.

_I’m going to miss you so much. I love you._

Determined not to cry, she steeled herself and grabbed his forearm. “How do _you_ feel about all of this?”

He opened and closed his mouth, then looked down at her still-closed fist. With a frightening tenderness, he pulled open her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I hadn’t decided.” She nodded, biting back a weepy breath. “My parents called me before the party and said they’d worked out their parole and I could come back to work with the family business. At first, I didn’t know how to react. I mean, obviously I miss my sister. Ever since I got here, I’ve been complaining about Riverdale.”

“I know.”

Swallowing audibly, his eyes shined as he regarded her in the near-dark of a stranger’s bedroom. “But then there’s _us_.”

Her heart squeezed, a streak of wetness darting down her cheek. “We can do long distance. We can FaceTime and do long weekend visits. I can borrow my mom’s car or find a bus if it’s too far for your bike–”

“Betty.” She held her breath, tears freely streaking down her face. “I want to be with _you_. Whether it’s Riverdale or Columbia–wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.” His fingers curled possessively around her ankle. “That may not mean I go to every party, but–”

Without a second thought, Betty grabbed his face with both hands and silenced him with a kiss. The sticky velvet of their parted lips made their eyelashes flutter with content. “You–in any capacity–is what I want. So you’re saying where I lead… ”

“I will follow,” he replied with sheepish, sappy grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I was tempted to have Archie be like, "DID YOU MAKE HER CRY?" when they came down but honestly we're here for the sweeties. I think Jughead and Archie became friends, anyway. The only person Archie's managed to keep up an antagonism with is Hiram Lodge and that's a WHOLE other can of worms. Pretty sure RAS would LOVE a Bulldogs Gone Wild episode.
> 
> Who wants to indulge my obsessions in the comments? They fulfill me like glitter sprayed into the audience at Miss Patty's dance recitals. Thoughts? Giggly moments? Any baseball names you wanna share or horror stories of active reading and crazy high school parties? Your comments on the first installment did inspire this one, by the way, so thank you all, and have a MAGNIFICENT day! ;)


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